


An Act of Will

by liroa15



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 04:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16468625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liroa15/pseuds/liroa15
Summary: Connor McDavid has a hopeless crush on Leon Draisaitl, but thankfully Dylan Strome is willing to pretend to be his fake boyfriend to get Leon's attention. Dylan's got other plans though, and they may just involve landing two Edmonton Oilers.





	An Act of Will

“This is the fucking worst,” Connor grumbles. He’s lying in bed in the hotel room in San Jose, Skyping with Dylan, who’s back in Arizona, trying to make the Coyotes out of camp again. 

“Oh my God,” Dylan laughs. “You’re my favourite soap opera, Davo,” he says. “You Skyped me when you could be in the hotel bar because you like a boy.”

“I couldn’t be in the hotel bar,” Connor returns. “I always get IDed. It’s embarrassing. The guys all make fun of me.”

“That’s because you look twelve,” Dylan replies mercilessly. “I’m sure you could get your boy to buy you a drink or two. He doesn’t look twelve.”

“Fuck you, Dyls,” Connor snaps. “This isn’t fucking funny.”

“Not to you,” Dylan agrees readily. “I’ll be right back,” he adds. “I was making popcorn when you called.”

Connor hangs up at that and doesn’t answer the first time Dylan calls back.

“Asshole,” Dylan grumbles when Connor finally picks up the second call. 

“You deserved it,” Connor returns, not the least bit repentant. “This is fucking serious, Dyls.”

“Yeah, okay, Davo,” Dylan agrees. “Your crush on Draisaitl is very serious. The most serious.”

Connor flips Dylan off in response before asking, “What am I going to do?” he whines. 

“Well, you could try, you know, talking to him,” Dylan suggests, tone as dry as dust.

“That’s a terrible fucking idea,” Connor returns immediately. “I can barely talk to you, and I don’t want to fuck you.” _That much. Anymore._ goes unsaid. Because Dylan never felt the same way. Because Connor could never find the right words to talk to Dylan about it. Still can’t, so they both just ignore it.

“That is true,” Dylan admits ruefully. “Words are not really your strong point. Unless it’s about hockey. Maybe you could just talk in interview clichés?”

“Then he’d think I hate him,” Connor says. 

“Yeah,” Dylan agrees. “I mean, I guess you could always get like a fake boyfriend so that he knows you’re into dick.”

Which, that is not the worst idea Connor has ever heard in his life. “Yeah, but who am I going to convince to date me but not really date me?” he asks. “Pretty much everyone just wants to be seen with me or get what they can from me. I couldn’t trust any of them with this.”

Connor’s not trying to whine, but it’s hard. Every time the team goes out, there’s always people hanging around, wanting to be famous by association. He doesn’t think any of those people would be willing to pretend to be his boyfriend and not run to the press about it.

“Yeah, you’re kind of fucked,” Dylan says. “Normally, I’d suggest Marns, but I think he’d just use that as yet another excuse not to ask Matts out, and if I have to hear any more about how perfect Auston Matthews is, I’m gonna kill him. He’s worse than you are, for fuck’s sake.”

Connor rolls his eyes at that. That’s not to say that Marns isn’t a lovesick fool because he totally is. “I’m not _that_ bad, Dyls,” he protests.

“Just about,” Dylan returns. 

Together, they work their way through their draft class, from Mitch to Eichs (which just no) to Lawson and TK. Hanny’s probably the best option, especially since he’s been traded to Calgary, but he’s straight as an arrow, and it’s unlikely that Leon will ever buy that. 

“I guess I’ll just have to take one for the team and be your fake boyfriend,” Dylan finally says. 

Connor actually has to stop and think about that. “Ryan will know though,” he objects.

“Ryan won’t know shit,” Dylan dismisses. “My brother’s worse than you when it comes to picking up on emotions.”

There’s nothing Connor can really say to dispute that. He didn’t know about Dylan’s crush on Marns or Marns’s crush on Matts until Dylan told him, and he’s pretty sure Ryan still doesn’t know. “Okay,” Connor finally agrees. “So how do you want to do this?”

Dylan shrugs. “Pretty much like we have been. I’m in Arizona, and you’re in Edmonton. It’s not like we can go on dates, and we already Skype like every night neither of us is playing. We’re practically dating already, only without the sex.”

Connor blushes at that, which makes Dylan cackle.

“I fucking hate you,” Connor grumbles.

“You love me,” Dylan returns. “You’re head over heels for me.”

“So much hate,” Connor repeats. Dylan laughs so hard he snorts.

“So I’ll let it slip to Ryan,” Dylan says when he can talk again. “I’ll tell him it’s a secret or whatever, so everyone will know within a week.”

That’s pretty much true; Ryan has a big mouth, and he doesn’t know how to keep a secret.

They talk a little bit about the powerplay and their teams’ respective chances at making the playoffs. Dylan’s rant about the Coyotes’ less than stellar chances is interrupted by a knock at the door. 

Leon’s on the other side. “Oh, sorry to interrupt,” he says, eyes darting to Dylan in the open Skype window. 

“Nah,” Connor replies, turning to grin at Leon. “We’re just shit-talking the Flames.”

Leon’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “Okay. I was gonna ask if you wanted to watch something, but I’ll leave you be.”

“Nah,” Dylan denies before Connor can say anything. “I should let you go anyway, Davo. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Connor nods, and Dylan waves and then Connor is ending the call.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Leon mumbles again, standing somewhat awkwardly a few feet from Connor’s bed.

“You didn’t,” Connor assures him. “We weren’t talking about anything serious. I’ll call him tomorrow.” While he’s talking, he’s queueing up the next episode of _Ballers_ on his laptop. 

“If you’re sure,” Leon mumbles, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

“Totally sure,” Connor says, settling back against the headboard. After another second of hesitation, Leon settles next to him, and Connor pushes play. 

After a couple of minutes, Leon relaxes enough to let his head rest on Connor’s shoulder, his breath warm against Connor’s neck. They watch a couple of episodes before Connor goes to ask Leon a question and finds him asleep and drooling on his shoulder.

Which, it’s probably a sign of just how far gone Connor is when it comes to Leon that he finds this cute instead of disgusting. He Snaps Dylan a picture of Leon’s sleeping face. Dylan sends back a selfie where he’s pretending to throw up.

 _your just jealous_ he sends back before closing his laptop and pulling the sheets up over both of them.

~

When Connor’s alarm goes off the next morning, he’s alone in his hotel room, but the space beside him is still warm. 

When he makes it down to breakfast, Ryan slides into the seat next to him almost immediately. “So,” he says while Connor stares at his eggs.

“So,” Connor parrots back, picking up his fork and shovelling a couple of forkfuls of eggs into his mouth.

“So I had an interesting conversation with Dyls last night,” Ryan continues. 

“That’s nice,” Connor mumbles, staring down at his plate. 

“Something you want to tell me, Davo?” 

“Not really,” Connor returns because it’s one thing to talk with Dylan about this, but it’s another thing entirely to actually be sitting with Ryan getting grilled about dating his little brother. Maybe Connor didn’t think this thing all the way through.

“Because Dyls made it sound like you two were dating,” Ryan continues in the same tone of voice he might use to talk about the shitty weather back in Edmonton or his latest game of golf or some stupid joke he read on the internet.

“I mean, we kind of are, I guess.” Connor tries to keep it casual. “It’s sort of hard right now.”

Ryan nods sagely. “Okay, Davo, but here’s the thing. I’m already Mom’s second favourite son. If Dylan shows up with you on his arm, I’ll be demoted to least favourite, and I just can’t have that.”

Which, Connor knows there’s a lot of important shit he should be taking out of this conversation, but what he really wants to know is who their mom’s favourite is. “Who’s her favourite then?” he asks when he probably should be thanking Ryan for his support.

“Matty.” Ryan sighs dramatically. “You just can’t win against the baby, Davo.”

Leon settles into the chair next to Connor, hair wet from the shower and looking hot as hell. Which is pretty much Leon’s default as far as Connor’s concerned.

“What’s going on?” Leon asks.

Connor blushes and stares intently at his eggs, but Ryan’s more than happy to catch Leon up on everything that he’s missed.

By the end of it, Leon’s wearing the most adorably confused face Connor’s ever seen in his life, not that he’s biased or anything. “But didn’t you already know?” he asks. “Like, Davo Skypes him every day. I’m pretty sure their Snap streak is in the triple digits by now. Also, he’s the only person who can get Davo to change his mind, and he’s the first person Davo asks about anything related to hockey.” He shrugs. “It’s always seemed pretty obvious.”

By the end of Leon’s speech, both Ryan and Connor are staring at him. “Well shit,” Ryan finally mumbles. “How could I have missed that?”

“You miss everything,” Connor chirps automatically. “Dyls always says…” he trails off because Leon is grinning as if Connor’s proving his point. 

“See?” he says. “It’s obvious if you know what to look for.”

“And you know what to look for?” Connor asks. It’s a bit of a gamble, pushing like this, but Connor’s feeling high off the success of his and Dyls’s plan. 

The look Leon gives him is considering. “I might,” he allows, which isn’t exactly an admission, but it gives Connor hope all the same.

Before any of them can say anything else, Coach is there, telling them that the bus is in half an hour and it’s not waiting for anyone. Anyone who misses it has to find his own way home and will end up scratched from their next game. The breakfast room clears out pretty quick at that. Connor himself has to finish packing the last of his shit.

He barely makes it to the bus on time, slinking into the seat beside Leon only a couple of minutes before the bus pulls out. He’s not the last one on the bus though, so Connor’s going to count it as a win.

Leon’s pretty quiet on the bus ride, which Connor’s okay with. He digs out his headphones and queues up some Drake and just lets himself be. The bus is mostly quiet since it’s still too early for the guys to be much more than awake. A couple of the older guys with families are calling home before they get on the plane. Connor sends Dylan a Snap the interior of their bus captioned _bus sweet bus_. Dylan sends back a picture of the room in Phoenix. Connor has to bite back giggles because Crouser’s mostly naked and blurry in the background.

 _hot_ Connor sends back. 

Dylan sends him back the laughing so hard it’s crying emoji. 

~

The thing about fake dating Dyls is that it’s easy. Connor doesn’t have to do anything differently. He still Skypes Dyls and bitches about practice and his teammates and the way that no one in Edmonton seems to be able to drive and how scared he is about leading this team, and he still listens to Dyls talk about how fucking hot Arizona is and how worried he is that he’s never going to make the NHL, not really. 

And then Arizona comes to town. Connor gets to hear a never-ending litany of chirps at pre-game skate. He tries to laugh it off, but a couple of the chirps land a lot harder than they should. Connor can feel himself tensing up, which just makes it worse.

“Grab lunch with me,” Leon commands as soon as they get off the ice. “Where are you meeting your boy?”

Connor shrugs. “Dyls got a curfew exception, so he’s staying with me tonight before they head down to Calgary for their game there.”

Leon grins at that. “Look at you, all grown up and setting up booty calls.”

Connor flips Leon off for that, but it does help relax him. Leon drags him out to a sort of Mom-and-Pop-looking place with a menu full of German food that is definitely not in their diet plans.

“What’s good here?” Connor asks.

“Everything,” Leon drawls, but then he offers a couple of suggestions that might come close to Connor’s meal plan. 

Their server is attentive but doesn’t hover, which tells Connor that Leon comes here often enough that they’re used to him. “Toby and I come here sometimes when we’re both missing home,” Leon says when he’s done with his food.

“Will you show me your favourite places when we get there?” Connor asks. “Not like the tourist places, but the places you like.”

Leon looks at him for a second, like he’s trying to figure out how serious Connor is. “Sure,” he agrees. “If we’ve got time. I’m sure they’re going to make me do a bunch of videos for the website and stuff.”

Connor hadn’t considered that. He feels foolish and naïve, and he can feel the colour rising up his neck. “Yeah, of course, don’t worry about it.”

Leon stares at him intently for a moment, which feels like an eternity. Connor fights not to squirm in his seat like a misbehaving child. “There’s a couple of places you’ll probably like,” he says finally. “Not really tourist places, but I think you’ll like them anyway.”

Connor can’t help but grin at that. “For sure,” he agrees.

And then the bill comes, and Leon’s handed over his card before Connor even realizes what’s happening. He tries to protest, but Leon waves it away with a quick next time. 

Connor goes home and takes his pregame nap. When he gets up, he’s got a bunch of Snaps from Dyls, mostly of the airport and then the bus ride and then the arena, like Connor hasn’t seen all of those things a million times.

By the time he gets to the arena, most of the guys are already there. A couple of the veterans shoot him questioning looks, but Connor shrugs them off and tries to get ready for the game like it’s any other. The Oilers TV guy comes to talk to Stromer about what it’s like playing his brother and who their parents cheer for. Stromer plays it up for the cameras; Connor’s pretty sure that in the visitors’ room, Dyls is doing the same thing.

Warm-ups are good. The crowd is pretty dead, but it’s a weekday night and they’re playing Arizona, who aren’t exactly a top team. 

Connor’s waiting for his turn to shoot when he hears Dyls across the ice. He tries to skate to centre ice casually, where he starts his stretches. A minute later, Dyls is stretching next to him. “So, how’s it going?” Dylan asks, all faux casual.

“Oh, you know, same-old, same-old,” Connor returns. “Trying to win some hockey games. How about you?”

“Same-old, same-old,” Dylan returns, sticking his tongue in his cheek. “Know any good places to pick up in this city?”

“Ha fucking ha,” Connor replies, biting back a smile. “But seriously, I hear good things about the face-off dot.”

Dylan pretends to consider that. “I’ll think about it.” And then he’s off to take a couple of practice shots on Raanta. 

When Connor turns back to the Oilers end of the ice, at least half his teammates are trying to watch him. A couple of them aren’t even being subtle about it. 

“Oh my God, you two are fucking sickening you’re so cute,” Nursey tells him. 

“Oh fuck off,” Connor says, trying to keep his voice low enough that none of the cameras or fans will hear him. 

“Seriously though,” Nursey says as they head down the tunnel, “you two are the fucking cutest.”

Thankfully, they’re in the tunnel and away from the camera, so Connor can just happen to develop an itch on his nose that he just has to scratch with his middle finger. Nursey just laughs and claps him on the back. 

The game itself isn’t anything remarkable. If anything, it’s a little bit sloppy. Neither team is playing their best, but Connor manages to bang in a greasy goal in the second, and he gets an assist on Ryan’s powerplay goal in the third. Drai gets a couple of apples of his own, one on Connor’s goal.

Dyls gets a goal for the Yotes, but it’s not enough. 

Dylan’s still in good spirits when he meets Connor in the hallway after the game. “You ready to go?” Dylan asks.

Connor nods. “My car’s just in the parking lot.”

Dylan rolls his eyes, just like he does every time Connor mentions his car. “Your fucking tank you mean,” he teases. 

Connor rolls his eyes at that, but he doesn’t bother to dispute it. “What do you want to do tonight?” he asks instead.

“You,” Dyls replies impishly, and it’s not until Stromer gags behind him that Connor realizes they’re no longer alone.

“Seriously though,” Connor pushes when Stromer heads down the hall. 

“Feed me,” Dylan moans. “I’m dying.”

“You want to go out or order in?” Connor asks, motioning for Dylan to follow him to the parking lot.

“Order in,” Dyls says. “I don’t really need to watch you practice your signature all night.”

Which is fair. Connor doesn’t really want to spend his time with Dylan signing autographs either. Connor lets Dylan flip through the take-out menus he has saved on his phone. Dyls picks one of Connor’s favourite places and then calls in the order for the both of them. They pick their steaks on the way back to Connor’s and eat pretty much as soon as the door to Connor’s apartment closes.

“So tell me everything,” Dylan demands when they’re done their food and he’s made himself comfortable in a pair of borrowed sweats and one of Connor’s old Erie tees. 

And it’s Dylan, so Connor does. By the end of it, he’s got his head in Dylan’s lap, and Dylan’s carding his fingers through Connor’s hair the way he used after hard games back in Erie. 

“Sounds nice,” Dylan says when Connor finishes describing lunch with Leon. “Solid first date, and it makes a good story for future retelling.”

Connor rolls his eyes at that. “You’re ridiculous, Dyls,” he says.

“We’re watching _Avengers_ ,” Dylan says like he’s not proving Connor’s point.

“Haven’t you seen that movie like a thousand times already?” Connor asks.

Dylan shrugs. “Not on your TV.”

So they watch _Avengers_ and Connor listens to Dylan’s many, many opinions on everything Marvel, and he barely even startles when he heard a key in the lock. Nursey’s head appears in the doorway slowly, like he’s afraid he’s going to find them fucking on the couch.

“It’s worse than we thought,” he says to whoever he brought with him. “They’re _cuddling_.”

“I gave you that key for emergencies, Nursey,” Connor says without moving from his spot in Dylan’s lap. Darnell ignores him, just like Connor knew he would, and starts rooting through his fridge for a drink while the rest of the guys pile in to his apartment.

Before long, Connor’s living room is full of teammates. Nursey clearly invited anyone under the age of 25. Benny and Caggs are squished together on the loveseat while Nursey takes up the space on the couch that Dylan and Connor aren’t using. Jesse is sitting in one of the chairs the guys dragged in from the kitchen, watching them all. Kailer and Bouch are hovering, almost like they’re not sure they should be here at all. Adam has grabbed one of the other kitchen chairs, and he’s currently got Oscar perched on his lap. Leon’s sitting at the couch at Dylan’s feet, having shoved the coffee table out of his way.

“This is nice,” Nursey says as the movie finishes.

Connor kicks him in the ribs. He doesn’t feel even a little bit sorry about it either, despite Nursey’s puppy eyes.

The guys set up a CHEL tourney, and Dylan kicks Connor out of his lap so that he can school everyone. 

By the time Dylan’s done, Connor’s sitting next to Leon on the floor, his head resting on the German’s shoulder. Dylan’s added the rest of Connor’s teammates to his Snapchat and Instagram, and Connor’s not even surprised. 

“Sorry,” Nursey says when it’s just him, Connor, Dyls, and Leon left.

“No you’re not, you cockblock,” Dylan replies cheerfully, not the least bit put out. “But it’s all good.”

“Just had to make sure you were treating our boy right,” Nursey says, tone cheerful.

“Yeah, I get it,” Dylan says, unexpectedly serious all of a sudden. “Just remember, he was my boy first.”

Dylan says something to Leon on his way out, but Connor can’t hear what, and Dylan won’t say no matter how much Connor presses him.

~

Their next game against Calgary is closer than Connor would have liked, but the Oiler eek out of the in in overtime, and then they’re heading overseas to Germany for their final preseason game of the year. The guys are excited. Connor can hear Nursey talking about all the food he’s going to eat and the girls he’s going to meet, and Jesse trash-talking Sweden to Oscar and Adam while they defend their homeland.

Leon slides into the seat next to him just before takeoff, even though his usual seatmate is Toby. 

“Isn’t Toby going to miss you?” Connor asks. 

Leon shrugs. “I think Toby will be okay for one flight.” He then proceeds to distract Connor by mentioning the fact that Oktoberfest will still be going on when they land in Germany.

“Do you think they’ll let us go?” Connor asks because he’s heard that Oktoberfest can be quite the party.

Leon shrugs again. “I think it’ll feature in their promo material, but I don’t think Coach is going to want us to go out before a game.”

Connor sighs. “True.”

Leon grins. “I imagine some of the guys won’t really give them much of a choice.”

“Still, the captain should probably set a good example,” Connor mumbles. “Be responsible. All that.”

“True,” Leon agrees. “I did promise to show you Koln though, and what’s Koln without Oktoberfest?”

Connor grins at him then, but he doesn’t deny it.

“You should try and sleep on the plane,” Leon says after a moment. “The jet lag will be a bitch otherwise.”

“Probably a good idea,” Connor agrees. He spends a couple of minutes shifting around in the seat trying to get comfortable before Leon pushes the armrest up and says, “Just lean on me.”

“You sure?” Connor asks, trying not to sound too eager. 

“It’ll be fine,” Leon promises. 

Connor takes him at his word. It still takes a little bit of doing, but he manages to find a mostly comfortable position with his head on Leon’s shoulder that doesn’t play absolute hell on his neck. He doesn’t wake up until the flight attendants come through with their meals. 

A couple of the guys give him funny looks, but Connor ignores them resolutely. The team makes sure their meals are catered, so thankfully they don’t have to eat terrible airline food, for which Connor is forever grateful. 

“You can sleep more if you want,” Leon says after the flight attendants take away their trays. 

“No, I’m up now,” Connor denies. “I should watch some tape before we land anyway.”

Connor spends the next couple of hours trying to pick apart the Sharks’ defence. In the end, he forces himself to put it down and ask Leon some more questions about the best places to eat in Cologne.

~

When they land, Customs is a nightmare. They’ve all got their gear and their sticks and their luggage, and they’ve got to declare it all. Eventually, though, they all make it to the bus, although Leon has to stop to sign a few autographs, which the rest of the guys give him endless shit for on the way to the hotel. 

The hotel itself is pretty nice, and even though all Connor wants to do is go back to sleep, he knows he can’t if he wants to avoid the worst of the jetlag. Leon’s probably off with his family, so Connor attaches himself to the group of guys going to dinner at the hotel restaurant. 

The dinner is loud in the way only a large group of hockey players can be. Connor plays it safe when it comes to ordering, and he’s still not completely sure what he’s eating. When he gets back to his room, he’s got about fifteen texts from Dyls, so he looks up the Coyotes schedule before Skyping him. 

“Fucking finally,” Dylan grumbles when he picks up.

“Sorry that me flying halfway across the world inconveniences you,” Connor snaps.

“What time is it there?” Dylan asks after a second.

Connor shrugs and adjusts his laptop screen, so Dylan can see him better. “I don’t really know. My watch is still set to Edmonton time. I just got back from team dinner.”

“How’s Germany?” Dylan asks.

“Well, I think the Customs guy hates us all, but the hotel’s nice. I’m not sure exactly what I had for dinner, but it was good. We’re hoping that Coach will let us check out Oktoberfest before we leave.”

Dylan laughs a little at that. “Yeah, I wouldn’t hold your breath, Davo.”

Connor bitches about that for a little while because seriously? After coming all this way to play a game that doesn’t even matter, they’re not going to get to go out and party a little?

Dylan nods sympathetically and then basically tells him to suck it up and then launches into a story about Chych getting pranked. 

“They’re making the final cuts tonight,” Dylan says, apropos of nothing. Connor _knows_ he’s worried about being sent down.

“You’ve had a good camp,” Connor promises. “I’m not just saying that either. You’ve down a lot of really good things, and your coaching staff are idiots if they don’t give you a chance.”

“I haven’t been putting up a lot of goals though,” Dylan mumbles, sounding insecure. 

“There’s more to hockey than scoring goals,” Connor says. “And your puck possession has been really strong this preseason. You’ve got a couple of assists too, so it’s not like you’re putting up points, Dyls.”

“You’ve been watching?” Dylan asks, voice small.

Connor resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Every chance I get. It’s not always easy to find stuff, but I’ve seen enough. You’ve been playing great, and they’re stupid if they don’t give you a chance.”

“You have to say that though,” Dylan protests. “It’s like a rule or whatever.”

“Have I ever lied to you about hockey, Dyls?” Connor asks.

“No,” Dylan admits.

“Then trust me, Dyls. You’re doing everything you can, and it’ll pay off.”

“What if it doesn’t though?” Dylan asks, and he sounds honestly worried and maybe a little bit scared.

“Don’t think like that, Dyls,” Connor scolds. “You can only control what you do. And you’ve done the work. No matter what happens, I’m proud of you.” Which might be a little sappy, but Connor’s pretty sure Dylan needs to hear it right now.

“You’re gonna make a great boyfriend, you know,” Dylan says finally when he’s got control of himself again. “I’m almost jealous of Draisaitl.”

“Come on, Dyls,” Connor scolds. “No matter what, nothing’s going to change between you and I. Otters for life.”

“Otters for life,” Dylan agrees. They talk about other things for a couple of minutes before Dylan has to go to a team-building exercise. Connor still feels a little unsettled though, and he heads down the hall to Leon’s room. Just as he’s about to knock, the door opens.

“Oh,” Leon says. Connor pauses, hand still raised.

“Sorry,” Connor mumbles, arm falling back to his side. “You’re on your way out.”

“Just going to get a drink at the bar,” Leon says. “You can join me if you want.”

“If you’re sure,” Connor begins because he doesn’t want to interrupt any plans Leon might have, but he also really doesn’t want to be alone right now.

Leon just gives him a look, like he’s disappointed Connor would even ask. Connor follows him to the elevator without another word.

The bar is pretty empty, so they manage to score a quiet table in the back with no trouble. Leon comes back with a couple of pints of beer. “The bartender said it probably wouldn’t offend the American palate,” he says, offering Connor one. 

“Thanks,” Connor mumbles, taking a long pull from the glass. The beer isn’t anything special, but it’s drinkable so Connor’s not going to complain.

“So what’s up?” Leon asks after he takes a couple of sips from his own glass. “You’re not worried about the game, are you? Because I promise they’ll love you no matter what.”

Connor rolls his eyes at that. “Everyone’s coming to see you, German Gretzky,” he teases and ducks when Leon flicks some of the head off his beer at him. “No, they’re making their final cuts in Arizona soon. Dyls’s worried. I’m worried. If he doesn’t make the team this year…” he trails off. “He’s one of the best players I’ve ever been on the ice with, and it kills me to see all the articles about how he only got drafted so high because he played with me, and how he’s a bust. He pretends like it doesn’t affect him, but it does.”

Leon listens and thankfully doesn’t offer anything until Connor’s done. “He was hard to play against when we played them,” he offers. “Good on the puck. I think he’s got a fairly good chance of making the team.”

Connor nods. “That’s what I told him. I don’t know if he believed me though.”

“Because you’re his boyfriend.” Leon nods sagely.

“Because I’ve never been impartial when it comes to him. Even that first year when he had a really terrible crush on Marns, I would have done anything for him.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Leon says after a moment. 

“I think it’s the other way ‘round,” Connor laughs because it’s true. There’s so, so many things he never would have figured out without Dylan pushing him. “We make each other better, I guess.”

“You two are so sweet you’re making me nauseous,” Leon declares and heads to the bar to get them both another beer. This time, he comes back with the same thing for Connor, but something darker for himself.

Connor grins at him. “Lots of guys back in Erie said the same thing. I miss playing with him sometimes, but I know he’d never forgive me if I asked the team to look at him.”

“Can’t blame him for wanting to succeed on his own,” Leon agrees. He fiddles with his phone for a little while, but Connor barely notices.

“So where’re you going to take me?” Connor asks, trying to think of something that’s not his fake boyfriend to talk about.

Leon smiles then. “I’ve got a few places in mind. It’ll have to be after practice though. They want to film something for Oilers TV before practice. The Cathedral, I think. The Gate, probably some of the Old Town.” He shrugs. “The normal tourist stuff.”

“And what you’re going to show me isn’t the normal tourist stuff?” Connor challenges.

Leon shrugs again. “Well, it can be if you really want to, but I wasn’t planning on it.”

“No,” Connor replies. He can feel a blush rising, but he’s going to blame it on the beer. “I wanna see whatever you want to show me.”

Leon gives him a look at that, which in retrospect, it does sound a little flirty for a guy who’s supposed to have a boyfriend.

“You should probably finish that and go to bed,” Leon says after a couple more minutes of silence, motioning at Connor’s second beer. “You look dead on your feet.”

“Fucking time zones,” Connor curses because he honestly has no clue what time it is anymore. “Hopefully, the Sharks are so in awe that they don’t realize how fucked we are.”

“Pretty sure they will be,” Leon promises, finishing his second beer and going to close the tab.

“I don’t have Euros yet,” Connor says when he comes back and Connor’s draining the last dregs of his beer. “I’ll get you back tomorrow.”

Leon waves that away easily. “Don’t worry about it. Get me a win in front of my family against my dad, and we’ll call it even.”

“I’ll try,” Connor promises.

~

Connor sleeps through his alarms the next morning, and it’s only Stromer pounding on his door that actually gets him up more or less on time to make the bus to practice. It’s a little weird playing on the bigger ice. Connor’s glad that their first game on the big ice won’t count.

“I’ll meet you back at the hotel,” Leon says as they’re on their way back to their temporary locker room. “I’ve got to make a couple of calls before we go.”

“Sure thing,” Connor agrees, stripping off his practice jersey and tossing his pads into his borrowed stall. Across the room, Stromer is watching him suspiciously.

“All right,” Coach says to the room. “We can’t stop you but remember to drink responsibly if you’re going out tonight. Don’t forget our pre-game skate is tomorrow at 11. The bus is leaving the hotel at 9:30.”

A couple of the guys groan theatrically, but most of them are happy enough to have a free night in a foreign city.

Connor sends a quick text to Dylan on the bus ride back, checking to see how his last game went and if he’s heard anything from the coaches. He doesn’t expect to hear anything back for a few hours because it’s ass o’clock back in Phoenix.

He changes into his best pair of jeans—the ones Dyls says make his ass look good—and an Oilers hoodie because it’s not really that warm.

 _meet me in the lobby in 20_ Leon sends just as Connor’s starting to think that he’s being pranked.

Connor sends back a couple of thumbs up emojis and spends the next twenty minutes watching the bedside alarm clock before heading to the elevator. Leon is already in the lobby, tapping at something on his phone.

“Come on,” he says, smiling at Connor. “Kim’s only going to let me borrow her car for so long.”

“You said twenty minutes,” Connor protests.

Leon grins then, and then leads the way out of the lobby. His sister’s car is just a normal car, nothing fancy. Leon’s quiet on the drive, pointing out the Cathedral and a couple other historic buildings as they drive by. 

“So where are we going?” Connor asks when they don’t stop.

“You’ll see,” Leon promises. 

Just then, Connor’s phone buzzes with an incoming Snap, which is just a picture of Dylan’s Coyotes jersey. “Looks like Dyls is staying up,” he says with a smile.

Leon doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “I’m not surprised.”

Connor takes a terrible car selfie with Leon in the background and sends it back to Dylan with the caption _knew u could do it!_ along with four confetti horn emojis. 

“We’re here,” Leon says suddenly; Connor looks up and sees an arena.

“Where are we?” he asks.

“This is where I started playing hockey,” Leon offers, opening the door. “They’re going to let us skate.”

“I don’t have my skates,” Connor protests because Leon didn’t say anything about bringing his skates.

“I got them from the trainer,” Leon says. “They’re in the trunk.”

Connor grins at him then, climbing out of the car and heading towards the trunk. “Then let’s skate.”

The arena is empty except for a couple of middle-aged guys who greet Leon enthusiastically. “The room is through there,” Leon says, pointing. “Just give a minute.”

Connor’s already got his skates on by the time Leon tromps into the room, setting his bag down with a thump. “We’ve only got the ice for an hour,” he says.

“We’ve got a game tomorrow anyway,” Connor dismisses. “Even though it doesn’t count, I still promised you a win.”

“That you did,” Leon agrees, something indecipherable passing over his face. “Just let me get my boots on, and I’ll see you out on the ice.”

They don’t have sticks or pucks, so Connor does a couple of slow laps around the rink, waiting for Leon and getting used to the ice. 

“So what do you think?” Leon asks as soon as he steps onto the ice.

“It reminds me a little bit of some of the rinks I played with as a kid,” Connor admits. “The ice is bigger though.”

Leon laughs a little at that. “Always the big ice with you Americans.”

“Excuse me,” Connor says, pretending to be offended and trying not to laugh. “I’m Canadian, thank you very much.”

“I’m so sorry,” Leon replies, bumping their shoulders together. “Forgive me.”

“We’ll see,” Connor teases, giving Leon a gentle shove back. “Race me?”

Leon snorts. “You know you’re gonna win, bud,” he grumbles, but he moves towards the blue line obligingly. They race a couple of times, not seriously, and Connor wins every time. No one’s ever said he’s not a super competitive shit, after all.

They skate for a little longer before the guy Leon was talking to appears at the boards and says something. “Time to go,” Leon says regretfully.

“Probably for the best,” Connor agrees. “We don’t want to be tired for tomorrow night.”

Leon ends up signing autographs for a couple of young players on their way in while they’re leaving. Because he’s an asshole, he sends them Connor’s way once he’s done. 

“Didn’t want you to feel left out,” Leon teases when the kids go away, euphoric.

“Asshole,” Connor mumbles, heading back out to Leon’s borrowed car. They stow their skates. 

“Where to?” Connor asks while he’s doing up his seatbelt. Leon just smiles and doesn’t say anything.

“Asshole,” Connor repeats. 

“You love me anyway,” Leon states, carelessly. It makes Connor’s throat close up because he doesn’t know what to say in response to that. 

Leon doesn’t push, maybe because he can sense that Connor doesn’t know quite what to do with that. Maybe because they’re pulling up in front of a restaurant. 

“This used to be my favourite place to eat when I was a kid,” Leon says, unbuckling his seatbelt. 

Which, Connor doesn’t even know quite what to say to this. This is a very, very personal tour of Cologne. “You’ll probably have to translate the menu for me,” he mumbles. “I wasn’t even able to figure out the hotel menu.”

Leon smiles at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t worry, Davo. I’ll take care of you.”

“I know you will,” Connor replies because he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s got faith in Leon.

The restaurant itself is nice, one of those family-owned places that only the locals seem to know about. Leon orders for the both of them after barely looking at the menu, easy and confident. Connor probably shouldn’t find Leon speaking German as hot as he does. 

Their server comes back with a couple of beers and smiles at Leon like she wants to take him home. Leon smiles back, polite and a little distant. “This is a Kolsch,” he says. “It’s the traditional beer here in Koln.”

Connor takes a tentative sip from the glass and is pleasantly surprised. It’s a little bit fruity, but otherwise it pretty much tastes like a lager. “It’s not bad,” he says. 

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Leon says with a laugh. “I wouldn’t give you anything I thought you wouldn’t like, Davo.”

“I know,” Connor promises. 

Their food arrives before Connor has to say anything else, and Leon seems content enough to let it go. They eat their food, keeping their conversation to safe subjects like the San Jose defence—seriously, how did they land Karlsson?--and the best places to shoot on Bobrovsky and Quick. 

A dessert appears as soon as the server whisks away their plates, a piece of three-tiered chocolate cake that looks rich and delicious. Connor and Leon split it, laughing when their forks clash.

Leon pays their bill before Connor can even reach for his wallet and shrugs off Connor’s offer to pay him back. 

“All right, where to next?” Connor asks.

Leon just smiles. “You’ll see,” he promises. “Nothing too wild though. We’re meeting up with a bunch of the guys for Oktoberfest too.”

Connor frowns a little at that because they do have a game to play tomorrow.

“Don’t worry, Cap,” Leon promises. “We’re all responsible adults. We’ll be ready for the game tomorrow.”

“I know,” Connor replies because he does know. His team are all professionals, and he trusts them. Last season just left a bad taste in his mouth, and he doesn’t want to see it repeated.

They drive for a little while. Connor can see the spires of the Cathedral piercing the sky, and it seems kind of interesting. He says as much to Leon, who looks over at him. “Yeah?”

Connor shrugs, trying to play it down a little. “I don’t know. We don’t have anything like that at home. It must have taken them like a hundred years to build.”

“Like two hundred, I think,” Leon admits. “We can go there. I hadn’t planned on it, but I didn’t know you were interested.”

“It’s okay,” Connor mumbles, face bright red. “It’s not important.”

“Nah, we can go,” Leon says, turns at the next corner and heading toward the Old Town. He finds a place to park and sends off a quick text. 

“Come on,” Leon commands. “It’s going to be busy, and the stairs won’t climb themselves.”

“How many stairs?” Connor asks, following behind Leon.

“A lot.”

~

Leon pulls some sort of magic to avoid the long lines of tourists, and they’re inside the building in short order. Connor cranes his neck up to look at the ceilings and wonders how anyone managed to build something so big and beautiful without the help of modern machines.

And yes, it turns out there are a fuck lot of stairs to get to the viewing platform. Like a fuck of a lot. By the time they get to the end, Connor’s pretty sure he’s going to die, and he still has to go down. 

The view though, the view is fucking spectacular. Connor manages to snag a picture of Leon staring out at the city without him realizing. He sends it to Dyls and only feels a little bit guilty about it.

“I haven’t been up here since I was a little boy,” Leon admits. “I think we came on a school trip or something.”

“You guys didn’t come up here this morning?” Connor asks, and listens to Leon laugh.

“Nah. They didn’t want to lug a camera up that many stairs, and I don’t blame them.”

“I’m not looking forward to going back down,” Connor agrees. “It’s really beautiful though. Thanks for bringing me.”

Leon looks like he’s about to say something then, but his phone goes off in his pocket and he pulls it out. He reads the text and then looks up at Connor. “We should probably head down if you’re ready to go.”

“Yeah,” Connor agrees, somewhat wistfully. “Let’s go.”

They make it down in pretty good time—being a professional athlete does have some advantages, after all—and then Leon is leading them both back to his borrowed car, and they’re back to following his original plan.

They end up on a quiet street with tall, narrow houses rising against the street on both sides. Leon parks in front of one of them and gets out. “This is my parents’ house,” he says, apropos of absolutely nothing. 

Connor doesn’t know what to say in response to that, but thankfully Leon’s sister is there, pulling her brother down into a hug and then offering him her hand. 

“I hope you’re enjoying Germany,” she says, and Connor assures her that everything has been great and he’s enjoying himself a lot. And then he remembers that they’ve been using her car all day, so he thanks her for that. She waves it off with a grin.

Connor’s met Leon’s parents before because they’ve come for games, and they were there for the playoffs, but it’s a different to be in the house he grew up in. Kim breaks out the albums of Leon as a kid as soon as they’re all inside and then drags him up to see Leon’s old room, which is full of his trophies, despite how Leon complains. 

They eat an early dinner with Leon’s family, who spend some time talking about the upcoming game and the best places to go for Oktoberfest. 

“You might as well just take them to the Beer Garden,” Kim says. “It’s not like your teammates are going to care where you go as long as there’s beer.”

Which Connor has to admit is true. Most of the guys aren’t exactly picky when it comes to their beer. 

Leon says something in German that makes her laugh before his mother says, “English,” in a scolding tone. 

So the conversation after that is all in English. Leon’s family is nice, and they clearly love him a lot. Connor finds it easy to chirp him gently and brush off his answering chirps. And then they’re going with promises that they’ll see each other at the game. Connor’s looking forward to it.

“We’ve got a couple of hours before the boys are going out,” Leon says on the way back to the hotel. Connor’s busy sending Dyls a couple of pics from today, including the one he snuck of Leon at the top of the Cathedral. 

_pretty_ Dylan sends back and then ruins it by adding like half a dozen eggplant emojis. 

_he took me to see his parents_ Connor sends back.

Dylan sends a Snap of his shocked face and the caption _boy’s moving fast_.

“I’ll text you when I know where the guys are going,” Leon promises as they pull up to the hotel.

“All right,” Connor agrees. “I think I’m gonna go shower off the sweat from climbing all those stairs.”

Which he does, but since Connor has been the master of the two-minute shower since he was 12, he also has time to Facetime Dyls, which he does.

“Oh my God,” is the first thing Dylan says. “If I’d known that all you two needed was a romantic getaway to his hometown, I would have bought you the ticket myself.”

“Dyls,” Connor grumbles. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dylan dismisses. “So Chych and I started looking for a condo.” He pauses for a second. “They sent Merks back down to Tucson.”

“I’m sorry, Dyls,” Connor offers because he knows that Dylan is really close to Nick Merkley. He doesn’t exactly like it, but that’s because he’s a possessive fuck. It took him a while to be able to share Dylan with Marns without getting jealous. Sometimes, he still doesn’t manage it.

“Nah, he’s gonna be back soon,” Dylan promises. “I told him not to get too comfortable down there.”

“For sure,” Connor agrees. He pauses for a second. “So, like maybe Leon and I had a moment today?”

“Like a dick-touching moment?” Dylan asks.

“Dyls!”

“I’m just, you know, asking for clarity,” Dylan returns innocently. 

Connor rolls his eyes. “No, but I think he was going to say something, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. It didn’t happen though so…”

“How are you not sure how you feel about it, Davo?” Dylan asks with an eyeroll. “You’ve been panting after that man and his dick for like months.”

“It was weird is all,” Connor defends. “I thought about you even though I know we’re not like together-together. I guess I’m not as over you as I thought.”

Dylan’s silent for long enough that Connor’s starting to worry that their Facetime has frozen. “You still there, Dyls?” he asks. 

“When were you ever into me?” Dylan demands, intent.

Connor rolls his eyes. “Like from the moment I met you? You were so into Marns that I knew I never had a chance, even if you would have never admitted it.”

“Damn,” Dylan grumbles. “I owe him 20 bucks.”

“This is what you’re worried about right now?” Connor demands because it seems absurd that Dylan’s first concern is a $20 bet with Marns that Marns probably doesn’t even remember. 

“He’s going to be insufferable, Davo,” Dylan replies.

“Then just ask him how things are going with Matthews,” Connor grumbles. “That’ll shut him up quick.”

Dylan grins at that. “True,” he agrees before his face goes serious once again. “Don’t worry, Davo. You and I are going to be fine, no matter what.”

And Connor knows that, is the thing. He’s told Dylan that more than once. 

“Obviously, I like you too,” Dylan says after a moment. “I just realized I never said that. But honestly? I sort of agreed to this because I guess I wanted to pretend, at least for a little while. I just didn’t think I had any real chance because you’ve always had your eye on Drai.” He giggles a little to himself over the rhyme. 

And that’s hard. Connor’s not sure what to do with it, but it feels like something died in his chest. “Dyls,” he mumbles. “Dyls no.”

“Davo, it’s _fine_.” And even Connor can’t miss the stress on the last word. “I’m not saying what I think you want to hear or whatever, it’s honestly fine. Whatever happens, I’m good with. I like you, and I like him just fine. We’re not all possessive shitheads.”

And Dylan sounds sincere, so it’s not like Connor can call bullshit. It’s just… Connor can’t imagine giving up _his_ people to anyone. He doesn’t know how Dylan can possibly be okay with it.

“Now go and have fun,” Dylan commands. “You can tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“We’ve got a game to play tomorrow,” Connor protests because his schedule on game days is pretty strict and Dylan knows that.

Dylan’s answering grin says that he knows that Connor knows that he knows that. 

“Asshole,” Connor mumbles and then hangs up the call.

~

Connor gets separated from Leon on the ride to wherever it is they’re going to experience Oktoberfest. He ends up in the last cab with Stromer and tries his best to ignore the look Leon shoots him.

The first five minutes of the ride are full of talk about the Sharks and their own powerplay and what needs to be done there since it’s still not clicking quite the way Coach would like.

“Dyls told me not to say anything about it, but he’s my brother,” Ryan says, apropos of nothing. “So all I’m going to say is this: I’ve seen the way you look at Leon, and the way Leon looks at you. If you end up hurting Dylan though, I’m going to make you pay. I know how important you are to the team and the League and all, but I’m still going to make you pay if you break my brother’s heart.”

And he says it all in a perfectly even, pleasant tone of voice. Connor can’t help but be impressed and also a little but scared. 

So Connor goes with the truth. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Stromer. I don’t know what’s happening with Leon and me, and I don’t know how it affects me and Dyls, but I’m trying my very best not to hurt him, all right?”

“See that you don’t,” Stromer mutters, and that’s the end of it. By the time they make it to the Beer Gardens and pay their cabbie, Stromer is chattering about how many different beers he’s going to try and how he wishes they didn’t have a game tomorrow.

Connor’s pretty sure he agrees at the right times, but his head is still trying to wrap itself around Stromer’s threat. And Connor’s absolutely sure that the older man meant every single word of it.

The Beer Garden itself is crowded full of people of every nationality imaginable, some of them very obviously drunk. Connor and Stromer each grab a beer from the first stall they find and then set out to find the rest of their teammates.

Which turns out to be fucking impossible in the crowd.

“Just check the group chat,” Stromer finally commands.

“You do it,” Connor returns, trying to avoid being body-checked by a woman who looks to be about his age and has way too much to drink.

“Not all of us are making 12.5 million,” Stromer teases. “I can’t afford to use my data over here.”

Which is honestly such shit because Stromer makes plenty of money, but Connor’s pretty used to the chirping about his new contract by now. And they really do need to find the others, so he digs out his phone and then follows the directions that Leon’s sent.

A cheer goes up from the rest of the guys when they finally find them.

“Yeah, fuck you all,” Stromer returns good-naturedly. Connor settles for flipping them all off and then sliding into an open chair, which just happens to be the one next to Leon. 

He listens to the rest of the guys talk about the beer they want to try and the atmosphere and the sounds of his team bonding.

Eventually, however, the guys start bugging him to buy a round because his new contract has kicked in, which will never not be fuel for chirping, and then because he’s the captain. 

Connor still doesn’t have any actual Euros on him, so they have to find a stall that takes cards, which seems a lot less common than back home. Eventually, however, they do, and Connor watches in amusement as his teammates try to decipher the menu, which is all in German.

In the end, Leon’s forced to step in and translate enough of it so that the guys can make their picks. Connor gets another Kolsch for himself because why not? Leon gets the same thing and then flips off Benny when he starts making kissing noises.

Stromer doesn’t take it near so well if the glare he shoots Benny is any indication. And Connor would really like to assure Ryan that nothing’s going to happen, but he’d have to understand what’s happening to do that and he really, really doesn’t.

By the end of the night, they’re all pleasantly tipsy. No one’s drunk exactly because they are all professionals who take their job seriously, but everyone’s had a few. Connor’s head is resting on Leon’s shoulder while Leon talks with one of the locals who’d stopped by their table. He can feel Ryan’s eyes on him, but it’s not like he’s doing anything. Well, besides using Leon as a pillow. 

Eventually, Leon abandons his conversation with the university kid. “Ready to head back?” he asks. Connor doesn’t even bother opening his eyes; he just nods.

They end up sharing a cab back with Benny and Looch, which means that Connor somehow ends up in the middle, squished between Leon and Benny while Looch rides in comfort in the front.

However, it apparently also means that Looch has to pay the cab driver, and Connor’s okay with that. 

“You want me to take him?” Looch asks as Connor stumbles out of the cab and towards the hotel lobby.

“Nah,” Leon denies. “I got this. He’s probably still jet lagged.”

“Better get over it quick then,” Looch grumbles. “This one might not count, but the next one sure does.”

“Worry about yourself, Looch,” Leon snaps back, and Connor’s pretty sure he’s not imagining the sharpness in his tone. Looch holds up his hands in surrender.

“All yours, man,” he says and saunters into the lobby. 

The elevator ride seems to take forever. It takes more than one try for Connor to extract his keycard from his wallet, but he manages it. Leon grabs the card from him, leads him down the hallway, and opens the door for him. 

“Morning skate is…” Leon begins.

“Eleven, I know,” Connor finishes. “Breakfast at eight. They do tell the Captain these things. Sometimes.”

Leon gives him a gentle shove at that, which causes Connor to stumble a little bit. When he goes to shove Leon back, he ends up with his face pressed into Leon’s neck and one hand wrapped around his bicep. Connor looks up when he’s more confident in his balance, but he can’t quite identify what he’s seeing on Leon’s face. He’s going to blame the beer for that.

The stay like that for a few seconds, and the Leon leans down and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Connor’s mouth. 

Connor leans into it, kissing Leon with intent, or trying to. Leon pulls back almost immediately. 

“Sorry,” Leon mumbles and then practically flees. 

_leon kissed me and ran away_ Connor texts Dylan, and then falls into bed. He’s asleep practically before his head hits the pillow.

~

Connor wakes up with a low-level pounding in his skull, the worst taste he’s ever encountered in his life (up to and including the time he ended up with a face full of Brinsky’s sweaty jock) in his mouth, and about ten thousand texts and four missed calls on his phone. 

Connor takes a piss, brushes his teeth, and then phones Dylan back without bothering to do the time zone conversion first.

“Fucking finally,” Dylan grumbles when he picks up. “It’s only the middle of the fucking night here.”

“Really?” Connor asks.

“Well, like eleven,” Dylan mumbles. “Now tell me what the fuck happened.”

Connor shrugs even though they’re not on Skype and Dylan can’t see him. “I’m not 100% sure, honestly. Like one minute he was reminding me about breakfast and the next he was kissing me. For ten seconds before he ran out of here like a bat out of hell.”

Dylan’s quiet for a minute. “I guess that’s why he texted me that it was all his fault and not to be angry with you,” he says thoughtfully. 

“He what?” Connor demands. “Because that isn’t true, Dyls. Whatever’s happening between him and I is on both of us.”

“Davo, I know you just woke up so you’re stupider than usual, but of course it is. This is exactly what we wanted to happen, remember?” Dylan snarks. 

“That was before,” Connor protests weakly. “Besides, I think Ryan really might try to kill me if he thinks I’m cheating on you,” he adds. “He pulled me aside yesterday to give me the shovel talk and everything.”

“I’ll deal with Ryan,” Dylan promises. Connor can tell by the tone of his voice that Dylan’s pissed, and he’s glad he’s not Ryan. Dylan gets… inventive when he gets pissed off, and he’s had a lot of practice being pissed at Ryan. 

“But what about you and me?” Connor whines petulantly. He knows he sounds like a child but figuring out where he stands with Dyls is more important than being accused of being a baby. 

Dylan sighs. “Look, Con, I don’t know, okay? You’re always going to be my best friend, but this whole thing was to get Leon interested in you, and now that he is, you’re asking about the two of us. There wasn’t even a two of us yesterday, not like this.”

And that might be the truth, but it still hurts. Connor’s glad they’re not on Skype so he doesn’t have to hide his wince. “Yeah, okay, Dyls, I get it,” he says. “I’ve gotta go anyway. Team breakfast.”

He’s actually got a few minutes left before team breakfast, but it’s as good an excuse as any. Dylan doesn’t really fight him either, which only makes Connor feel worse about the whole thing. 

He takes a hot shower, which doesn’t really make him feel better but does wake him up a little. He’s one of the first down to breakfast. Connor drinks a couple of cups of coffee, eats his breakfast, and keeps his head down. He’s just finishing his second cup of coffee when Ryan slinks into the chair next to him.

“Asshole,” Ryan grumbles. For a second, Connor thinks that Ryan must know about the kiss, but if that were the case, he’d be doing a lot more than just calling Connor an asshole. “Did you have to rat me out to Dyls?” Ryan continues, oblivious to Connor’s inner turmoil.

“You deserved it,” Connor returns because Ryan really did. “He told you not to do it, and you did it anyway.”

“He’s my brother,” Ryan protests.

Connor shrugs, “He’s an adult too, Stromer. Pretty sure he gets to make his own choices.”

Which is also pretty good advice for himself. He’s not the only one involved in this relationship. He’s gotta let Dylan make his own decisions, even if he doesn’t like them very much.

Predictably, Ryan flips him off instead of listening to his advice.

~

Connor manages to avoid Leon at breakfast, although he’s not sure if that’s on him or Leon or both of them. The bus ride to the arena is pretty quiet, but that suits Connor just fine. If anyone asks, he’s running through their playbook in his mind, but he’s actually trying to figure a way out of this mess with Leon and Dyls that doesn’t involve everyone getting their heart broken.

So far, he hasn’t had much luck. The way he sees it, either he leaves Dylan and whatever they could have had for Leon, or he tells Leon no and hopes that he may actually have something with Dylan. Either way, his relationship with Leon changes, which will change team chemistry, and why did he ever think this was a good idea in the first place? 

He should have remembered that dating or sleeping with a teammate is never, ever a good idea.

Pre-game skate is something of a mess, which Coach seems to expect but doesn’t exactly fill Connor with confidence. Connor’s got a meet-and-greet with a bunch of youth teams afterwards. Normally, he’d be pretty okay with that, but he’s supposed to do this with Leon, and he hasn’t even spoken to the man since The Kiss.

Leon and the kids are already in the room, which is a small mercy. He can just focus on trying to understand the kids who have crowded around him. (He can’t help but notice that there are a lot more children crowded around Leon than there are around him.)

Still, it’s easy to sign autographs and listen to kids tell him stories about their best goals, even if some of them still have thick accents. He’s pretty sure that all the kids leave happy, at least.

“I barely remember being that young,” Leon says while they wait for the car the team booked to take them back to the hotel.

Connor laughs at that. “If you ask Looch, I was that old last year.”

Leon grins at that. “Well, he wouldn’t be wrong, Davo,” he chirps.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Connor waves that away. 

Neither of them says anything for a couple of minutes, just standing and waiting for the car.

“Look, Davo,” Leon begins.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Connor interrupts. “I’m not… I haven’t really talked about it with Dyls yet. I mean, I told him, but it was late. I’m not upset or anything. I guess I’m pretty flattered? But yeah…” he trails off. 

The excuse sounds weak to his ears, but Leon seems to accept it without question. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he offers. 

“Why?” Connor asks. “I’m not. I like you, Drai, like a lot. If I didn’t have Dyls…”

“But you do, and I know it,” Leon interrupts. “I know better.”

And there’s not really much Connor can say in response to that. As far as Leon knows, Connor and Dylan are madly in love, and he’s putting himself in the middle of it. Which is a kind of shitty thing to do.

“Okay, but it wasn’t just you,” Connor pushes. “It was me too. Whatever happens between Dyls and I isn’t on you, and it never will be.”

It’s pretty clear Leon doesn’t believe him, but thankfully the car pulls up, and Leon drops it. 

The ride back to the hotel is silent. 

Connor’s phone remains silent as well.

~

The game itself is a fucking mess from start to finish. Connor’s head isn’t in the game no matter what he tries, and none of the other guys seem to be clicking together. They lose 4-1, and the score actually favours them, which is even more embarrassing considering they’re not even playing an NHL team.

“Sorry,” Connor mutters to Leon on their way down the tunnel. 

Leon doesn’t say anything in response.

~

The bus ride back to the hotel is subdued. Coach tells them to get a good night’s rest because they’re flying out to Gothenburg in the morning. 

Connor knows that it’s his job as captain to think of something motivational to tell the boys, to get their season off to the right start. And maybe once they hit Gothenburg, he’ll be able to think of something, but right now all he wants to do is ice the bruise on his shoulder he can already feel forming from a late hit in the second and sleep. 

A couple of the younger guys seem to be waiting for Connor to say something, so he mumbles out something about being prepared for the season and having 82 games in front of them. It seems to satisfy the younger guys, at least, even if his heart’s not in it.

Once he’s back in his room, getting ice from the machine down the hall seems like too much work. Connor lets himself starfish on the bed, tired in a way that has nothing to do with hockey. He wants to talk to Dylan and figure out what’s going on there.

He wants things to be good with Leon. He wants to find out if Leon’s as good in bed as he looks. 

He wants to know the same things about Dylan.

He wants to _make up his fucking mind_. 

He’s startled by a knock on the door. His first thought is to ignore it, but he’s the captain and that’s not just a hollow title. He levers himself off the bed and stumbles to the door.

It’s not one of the rookies or the young guys on the other side though. No, it’s Leon, holding a bucket full of ice.

“For your shoulder,” he says. “I saw that hit in the second from the bench. Looked nasty.”

“Thanks,” Connor mumbles, looking down. After a second’s hesitation, he steps aside and lets Leon in. “I was just trying to work up the energy to do it myself.”

Leon helps him out of his suit jacket and shirt and then helps him strap the ice on his shoulder.

“You okay, Davo?” Leon asks when Connor’s lying on his bed and channel surfing, looking for something in English.

“I think it’s just the jet lag,” Connor says, “but I feel like it’s the end of last season all over again.”

“It’s not the end of last season,” Leon denies immediately. “This year is going to be different.”

Connor just sighs. “Yeah, probably,” he agrees. “Sorry, I’m just in a bad mood. I promised you a win, and instead I played like shit.”

“We all played like shit,” Leon tells him. “I don’t think I made a pass in the entire third. I’m pretty sure Toby tripped over his own skates at one point. Talbs probably should have had the second goal, and our defence looked like a junior team. But it was just one game, Davo, and it didn’t even count for anything. We’ll do better next time.”

“Yeah, probably,” Connor agrees.

“Ice that shoulder, and stop thinking about it,” Leon commands. “We’ve got a plane to catch in the morning.”

“Thanks, Drai,” Connor mumbles, trying to find a position works for his shoulder and the rest of him.

“Don’t fall asleep with that ice still on your shoulder,” Leon warns. Connor waves it off because he knows what he’s doing. 

“I’ll see you on the bus,” Connor tells him. Leon leaves without another word, but there’s something almost hurt about his body language. 

Connor’s too fucking tired to figure out how to fix it. He ices his shoulder and then goes to sleep and tries not to pretend that he’s waiting for Dylan to call because he never does.

~

When Connor wakes up the next morning, it’s to someone pounding on his door. He stumbles to open it, thinking something’s gone terribly wrong, but it’s just Ryan on the other side. “Bus leaves in twenty,” he says, giving Connor a critical once over before heading back down the hall to his own room. 

Connor swears long and loud before slamming the door shut and bolting for the shower. It’s a good thing that, like every hockey player, he’s perfected the art of the two-minute shower. He spends the remaining 18 minutes getting all of his shit back into his suitcase and shows up at the bus red-faced and with his hair still sticking up in all directions.

“Looking good, Cap,” someone calls. Connor flips off the speaker without breaking stride and slides into his seat near the front of the bus. Coach is already staring at his iPad, no doubt trying to figure out what went wrong last night.

“Here,” Leon says, shoving an apple at him on his way towards the back of the bus. “Since you missed breakfast.”

Connor looks up, startled. “Thanks. Forgot to set my alarm. I’m not used to European time yet, I don’t think.”

Leon rolls his eyes at that. “No shit,” he says before settling in the seat next to Nursey.

The guys are in high spirits on the ride to the airport, chatting and laughing and quizzing Klef and Lars about Gothenburg and Stockholm and what they can expect.

“Pickled herring,” Klef answers, and he sounds completely serious. “Lots of pickled herring.”

“And IKEA,” Lars adds because they’re both assholes. 

Connor listens to the chirping with half an ear, at least until Coach looks over at him. And then it’s time to focus on defensive-zone coverage and zone entries until they get the airport. 

Once they’ve boarded their plane, Connor has to dig for his phone to shut it off while the flight attendants go through their normal spiel about doing up seatbelts and the emergency exits. 

_1 Missed Call Dyls_

Fuck. 

It’s not like Connor can do anything about it now, buckled in to his first-class seat on the way to Gothenburg. It’s not like he can ask them to open the doors and hold the plane so he can make a call.

Connor’s pretty sure the plane ride lasts forever. He can barely stay seated, let alone join one of the card games going on. A couple of the younger guys give him concerned looks, but Nursey and Benny distract them. 

Connor tries _not_ to think about what Dylan might have to say, but it’s impossible. 

“We’re landing in Goteberg in about twenty minutes.” Connor looks up, startled to see Klef standing next to him. “Just, you know, take a breath.”

“Thanks, Klef,” Connor mumbles, making a conscious attempt to try and relax a little. The last thing he needs is the rest of his team trying to help him.

That’s why he lets Nursey box him into the window seat on the bus. Nursey doesn’t really say much, and Connor lets his attention wander to the buildings outside. Connor’s been to Europe before, but he never quite gets used to the way the buildings look so old. Gothenburg is no exception.

Check-in at their hotel is relatively painless, and Connor’s settling into his room a lot sooner than he thought he would be. He’s already got a message from Hallsy, inviting him out for a drink before the game.

After a moment’s hesitation, Connor accepts and asks Hallsy if they can meet a little bit later. He makes some excuse about a team meeting and then places a call to Dylan.

He gets Dylan’s voicemail, but he doesn’t bother leaving a message. What would he say anyway?

~

Hallsy’s in good spirits when they meet in the hotel bar. They’re staying in the same hotel because that’s the how the NHL is. Hallsy tells him about the good bars that the Devils have found since they’ve been in Gothenburg for a couple of days already and everything Hallsy’s been up to since they last saw each other in Vegas.

“So what’s going on in your life?” Hallsy asks when their second beers show up. 

Connor glares at him.

“You know I keep gotta keep tabs on my favourite rookie,” Hallsy tells him, not even bothering to act ashamed. 

“You should stop listening to gossip,” Connor tries, but the look on Hallsy’s face says he won’t be dissuaded. 

“But then how will I find out that my favourite rookie finally hit it with his favourite Otter?”

Connor barely resists the urge to bang his head on the table. “Who told you that?”

“Are you saying it isn’t true?” Hallsy asks.

“I’m saying it’s none of your business,” Connor grumbles.

Hallsy grins at him then. “Good for you, Davo,” he says and then orders a round of fucking shots because he’s an asshole. 

Connor finishes his second beer and does his vodka shot and leaves Hallsy at the bar to wait for a couple of his teammates. “Be careful, huh, Davo?” Hallsy tells him, pulling him into a bro hug. “I don’t want to have to beat someone up because he broke my rookie.”

“Like you even could,” Connor chirps. 

“Better than you,” Hallsy returns evenly, glancing down at Connor’s hand pointedly. “Don’t make Edmonton sad, kid.”

Connor waves that off the same way he would an interview question from a reporter. “Keep your head up, Hallsy,” he says, which is as much a goodbye as anyway. 

When he gets back to his room, he checks his phone. There’s nothing, but Connor’s not really expecting anything. 

He toys with the idea of texting Marns for advice and then discards it. Marns can’t even manage to ask Matthews out, and everyone with eyes can see that they’re head-over-heels for one another. He’ll be no use trying to figure out Connor’s suddenly tangled love life. 

One by one, he considers and discards everyone in his Draft class. Eichs would find it fucking hilarious, but he’d spend all his time making snide comments about the hardships of being McJesus to offer anything helpful. Zach is really more Eichs’s friend than his, and Connor doesn’t really know Hanny that well, but if the group chat is any indication, he’s actively avoiding anything serious. TK and Crouser are so disgustingly co-dependent that telling one of them would be like telling both of them, and Connor’d like to keep his circle of humiliation as small as possible, thank you very much. 

At team dinner, he weighs the pros and cons of confiding in each of his teammates. The older guys with families are automatically eliminated. The very last thing Connor wants is to be treated to the ‘kids these days’ speech, even if it’s only a joke. Stromer’s obviously out. Nursey would probably find it hilarious, but Connor’s not in the mood to get laughed at before he gets anything useful. Caggs and Benny are just… well, they’re nice enough, but Connor’s not really close with them. Klef and Lars are good friends, but he’s never really been able to read either of them off the ice. 

Normally, he’d talk to either Dyls or Drai about this, which is impossible for obvious reasons. It leaves him feeling unsettled and off balance.

He’s momentarily distracted by the arrival of a plate of fucking pickled herring. Klef is actually filming the team’s reactions on his phone while Lars nearly kills himself laughing.

It’s just as disgusting as Connor was expecting, but Leon doesn’t seem phased by it. Then again, Connor’s pretty sure they have some weird foods in Germany too. 

“Well I never want to do that again,” Nursey declares. Klef and Lars seem to think a suitable apology is a round of vodka shots.

It’s good vodka at least, sliding down Connor’s throat easily. After they finish dinner, he heads back to his room, hoping to get a good night’s sleep.

He’s got something in Swedish on the television, half paying attention to it when someone knocks on his door. “Just a sec,” he calls, muting the tv and heading to the door. 

Leon’s on the other side, phone pressed to his ear. “Yeah, he’s here,” he says. He listens for a second and then holds the phone out. “He wants to talk to you,” he tells Connor.

“Who?” Connor asks, taking the phone automatically and putting it to his ear.

“Hey, Davo,” Dylan says.

“Dyls,” Connor gasps, knowing that he sounds a little desperate.

“Long time no talk,” Dyls jokes.

“I called you,” Connor says. He takes a deep breath and tries to let go of his defensiveness. He also steps aside and waves Leon into his room. The last thing he wants to do is have any of this conversation in the hallway.

“Yeah, I know,” Dylan replies. “I kept missing you. Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Connor gets out. “I was stupid.”

“And I didn’t have any reason to get angry with you. I was talking with Merks…”

“What?” Connor interrupts, eyes darting over to Leon.

“Chill, I didn’t use names. I mean, Merks probably knows anyway because I’m stupid for you, but deniability or whatever.”

“Okay, okay,” Connor mumbles, his eyes darting to Leon, who’s staring out the window with his back turned to Connor. “You want me to call you back on my phone?” he asks.

“I want you to shut up and listen to me,” Dylan snaps. “And put me on speaker.”

“Dyls…” Connor starts. 

“Just do it, Davo.” Dylan sounds tired. 

Connor does it.

“So I was talking to Merks,” Dylan repeats for Leon’s benefit. “And like I’m not sure if there’s something in the water in Kelowna or what, but Merks is like a real adult.”

Leon snorts. “That’s just Merks,” he says.

“Right,” Dylan says, like he’s putting something together. “You played with him.”

Leon inclines his head, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

“So what did Merks say?” Connor pushes.

“Right,” Dylan repeats. “So after I got done explaining it all to Merks, he looked at me like I was an idiot.”

“You are an idiot,” Connor chirps automatically. He’s not even really thinking about it; he just can’t let the opportunity pass him by. 

“Screw you, Davo,” Dylan replies. “So anyway, Merks looked at me like I was an idiot and then he said he’d send me some links. He did, and I’ll send them to you, Davo, but they were all about something called polyamory. Which is having a relationship with more than one person where all the people involved know and agree. There’s a lot of different kinds, apparently. It’s all in the links.”

“There’s a term for that?” Leon interrupts. Connor’s glad that Leon said it because he’s pretty sure his brain just short-circuited. 

“Yeah,” Dylan agrees. “There’s a term for that. It’s a legit thing that people actually do.”

Leon says something in German then, which is enough to get Connor’s brain working once more. 

Connor’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to say to that, honestly. His mind can’t really wrap itself around what Dylan’s trying to say. “And this is your bright idea? This is what you think we should do?” he asks because it seems completely crazy.

“I think it’s the best idea we’ve got,” Dylan returns. “I know it won’t be easy, Davo, but read the links I send you before you make up your mind.”

“Promise, Dyls,” Connor offers, still feeling faintly pole-axed. 

“Good.” Dylan pauses for a moment. “Love you, Davo,” he finally says.

“You too, Dyls,” Connor replies because no matter what, that’s true.

“And give that boy a kiss for me,” Dylan adds, tone suddenly mischievous. 

“Dyls,” Connor all but shouts.

“Wasn’t talking to you, Davo,” Dylan laughs and then hangs up the phone. 

Leon is quiet for a moment, just staring at his phone like it’s going to bite him.

And Connor knows Dylan, and he’s not going to let this go. And there’s a part of Connor that really wants to know what kissing Leon is like. So fuck it, he’s going to kiss Leon, and if that’s all that ever happens, well, it’s more than he thought he’d ever get.

Leon’s lips are soft and a little chapped. Leon is still for maybe half a minute, but it feels an eternity. And then Leon pulls him close and _kisses_ him. Leon tastes a little like beer and a little like salt. 

And Leon really knows what the fuck he’s doing.

“Did they teach you that in Kelowna?” Connor asks when Leon pulls back. 

Leon laughs at that, low and hot. “No, Davo. I knew how to do that before I got to Kelowna.”

Which is about when Connor realizes that he is so, so fucked.

~

The game in Gothenburg actually goes well. All the boys are pumped for the season opener, and Connor’s back to knowing exactly where Leon’s going to be on the ice at any given time. The Devils are good, and Hallsy is fucking great, but the Oilers are better and end up taking the game 4-2.

Connor has three points; Leon has two. Both Klef and Lars end up being awarded stars for the night, along with Bratt for the Devils. Connor doesn’t mind though. The hometown crowd loves it, Klef and Lars ham it up, and everyone leaves happy.

Leon crowds him on the bus back to the hotel, keeping Connor trapped in the window seat with a heavy arm thrown over his shoulders. Connor doesn’t mind, even lets his head rest on Leon’s shoulder despite the looks that Stromer gives him. 

They just won their season opener, he played well, he’s got Leon close, and Dylan’s only a call away. He’s not going to let Stromer get him down right now.

Leon’s not exactly subtle about following Connor back to his hotel room, but it’s not like they don’t hang out all the time anyway.

“You want to watch something?” Connor asks after the door closes behind them.

Leon grins at him. “Sure,” he drawls. “We can do that.”

Except when Connor opens his laptop to bring up the next episode of _Ballers_ , all the links Dylan said he would said are waiting. Connor opens the first one with a small sigh and starts reading. Leon curls up against his shoulder and turns his attention to the screen.

“I read slow in English,” Leon grumbles, swatting at Connor’s hand when he starts scrolling.

“Fine,” Connor mumbles. “You scroll then.”

Reading with Leon is pretty slow going, but that’s okay. Connor’s tired, and it’s always harder to focus on what he’s reading when he’s tired. Also, it gives him more time to think about what he’s reading, which still seems sort of surreal, honestly.

“I guess it’s a real thing,” Connor mumbles when they finish reading the first link.

“Guess so,” Leon agrees.

Connor’s quiet for a moment while he opens the second link that Dyls sent. “What do you think?” he asks.

“I think it sounds like a good idea in theory,” Leon says. “But I don’t know how it works in practice.”

“Yeah,” Connor agrees. He doesn’t know what the means, not really, and he’s kind of scared to ask Leon in case he doesn’t like the answer.

~

The next morning, they all pile onto a train from Gothenburg to Stockholm. They have a couple of train cars to themselves, and Klef and Lars assure everyone that travelling by train is much more civilized than flying. Connor just wants to be home, but he knows better than to say that to their Swedes. 

The train cars are nice, and they have WiFi, which means that Connor can Skype Dyls. Leon settles in the seat next to him and curls up like a cat. It’s actually pretty impressive considering Connor’s having trouble getting comfortable in his own seat. 

“Gonna Skype Dyls,” Connor tells Leon as soon he connects to WiFi. The WiFi is surprisingly strong, and Skype starts ringing right away. Dyls picks up on the fourth ring. 

“Davo,” he greets. “We just got to the hotel. I think my road roomie fucked off to the bar.”

“We’re on a train, heading to Stockholm,” Connor returns, moving the laptop so that the camera picks up his surroundings, including Leon’s dozing form. “I guess it’s easier to fly home from Stockholm.”

“Nice,” Dyls enthuses. 

Connor just shrugs and shoots a look over at Leon, who looks pretty out of it. “So are we okay, Dyls?” 

Dylan sighs. “Of course we are, Davo. We’re always okay. It’s just… I don’t know how I never saw it.”

Connor shrugs. “I didn’t want you to know. You were so into Marns that first year, and then it was easier not to say anything. I didn’t want you to think I was some creep.”

“I fucking hated Marns that first year,” Dylan protests. 

“ _Sure you did_ ,” Connor drawls. “You didn’t want to fuck him at all.”

Dylan scratches his nose with his middle finger. “How is it that you could figure that out, but you never realized how fucking crazy I was for you then, smartypants?”

Connor sighs. “I guess we don’t always see what’s right in front of us so clearly.”

Dylan wrinkles his nose at that but doesn’t dispute it. “So, how are you feeling about all this, Davo?” he asks after a second. “I mean, me, you, Draisaitl. It’s not exactly what either of us were expecting.”

Connor shrugs. “I’m not sure, Dyls,” he admits, eyes darting over to Leon’s sleeping form. “It sounds too good to be true, honestly. I feel greedy, and then I start asking myself how it would even work.”

“One day at a time, Con,” Dylan says. “By taking it one day at a time and actually talking to one another.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Connor offers.

“When have you ever been afraid of hard work, Davo?” Dylan asks. He pauses for half a second, and Connor hears the sound of someone at the door. “I’ll talk to you later, huh Davo?” he asks.

“For sure, Dyls,” Connor agrees.

“And just for the record, Davo, I don’t think it’s greedy at all.” And then the Skype screen goes blank before Connor can say anything else.

He looks over at Leon, who’s still dozing. “I hope he’s right,” he mumbles and turns his attention to looking out the window. Sweden is a really beautiful country.

~

They spend one day in Stockholm since they’re not expected in Boston for four more days, with Klef and Lars acting as tour guides. The Oilers TV cameras eat it up, but Connor has to admit that he has fun. He clings to Leon the whole time, going so far as to demand a piggyback ride while they wander the Old Town. 

Oscar insists on going to the Vasamuseet, where they apparently have a really old ship they salvaged from the bay. A couple of the guys complain, but Lars offers to take them to the ABBA museum instead, which shuts everyone up pretty quick. 

And it’s actually pretty cool. Connor takes a bunch of pictures of all the weapons and gets Kailer to take a couple of pictures of him and Leon together in front of one of the cannons. He sends that one to Dyls. Stromer keeps giving him the eye, but Connor ignores that. It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong. Dylan knows he’s with Leon right now.

They go out for dinner again, team bonding. They all get a few drinks, reveling in their relative freedom. The flight back to the States tomorrow morning is going to suck either which way, so they might as well have a little fun.

About halfway through his first beer, Dylan responds to his text. It’s just a bunch of the thirsty tongue emojis along with the three water drops. A second later, he gets another text. _Skype later?_

Connor sends back the thumb’s up emoji and looks up to see Leon texting someone. 

“Dyls?” he asks. Leon just slides his phone over.

Dylan’s in Leon’s phone as Otterchen, which Connor’s going to have to look up on Google Translate. Thankfully, the rest of it doesn’t really require translation, although Connor’s first reaction is to tell both of them to stop sexting since phones can get lost and no password is secure. His second reaction is to reach down and adjust himself since his pants are suddenly a little tight.

“Well, now I know why he wants to Skype,” Connor drawls, which draws a snort out of Leon.

Leon and Connor each get a second beer and try to pretend that everything’s normal. Connor’s not really sure that he manages it, but Leon looks as cool as ever. 

Connor heads up first. Leon is knocking on his door as the Skype window is ringing. Dylan picks up on the third ring. “Just a sec, Dyls,” Connor says. “Drai’s at the door.”

“Go and get him,” Dylan commands laughingly. 

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Connor asks, setting his laptop down and heading to the door while Dylan laughs.

“Dyls is on Skype,” Connor says as soon as the door closes behind Leon. Leon just grins at him and pulls him in close for a kiss.

“No fucking fair,” Dylan complains. “I can hear you, you know.”

“Sorry,” Leon says, although he doesn’t sound very sorry. 

Connor pulls him over to the bed. After that, it takes a couple of minutes to arrange everything so Dylan’s got a good angle of what’s going on.

“Just fucking kiss him,” Dylan commands. Connor’s not really sure which one of them he’s talking to, but it doesn’t matter because Leon is there all of a sudden, pulling Connor’s face towards him and kissing him.

Connor can hear Dylan’s voice groaning, but it’s distorted by the speakers of his laptop and probably also from the high of kissing Leon. And then Leon’s hand is sliding down Connor’s chest and underneath his waistband.

Leon pulls back far enough to ask, “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Connor moans at the same time Dylan growls, “Fuck yes.” 

It’s not the best handjob Connor’s ever had. Leon’s grip is too tight and too fast, and Dylan bitches the entire time about not being able to see enough. 

Connor bites his lip to keep from shouting when he comes. Leon kisses him again and again while Dyls says dirty, dirty things. Connor lets himself drift while they talk, secure in the knowledge that Dylan will catch him up if it’s important.

~

Their flight to Boston is long. Connor curls up with Leon and tries to sleep. He wakes up a couple times with a crick in his neck, and by the time they land at Logan, Connor is more than ready to get off the fucking plane. 

And then they have to go through Customs, which is pretty much always a nightmare. Monday morning is no different, as the lines are long and slow-moving, so by the time they all get through, they have to rush to make morning skate.

By the time they get back on the bus after skate, Connor’s just about ready to die.

“You have to stay awake until after dinner tonight,” Leon tells him when he settles into the seat behind Connor.

“I fucking hate you,” Connor moans.

Leon just laughs at that, the asshole.

Connor texts Dylan _our bf is an asshole_.

Dylan sends back the laughing so hard it’s crying emoji. 

~

They’ve got several games before they actually get home to Edmonton. Connor and Leon have hooked up a couple more times, which is easier now that neither of them have a roommate. They haven’t always managed to Skype Dyls because he _does_ have a roommate, and as nice as Chych is, Connor refuses to have Skype sex anywhere he might hear. 

But now they’re back home, and Connor finally gets to have Leon come over to his place. He orders take-out because the last thing he wants to do is give them both food poisoning with his cooking. 

Leon actually knocks on his fucking door, which more than anything shows just how nervous Leon is. Connor goes and opens the door without laughing.

“Hey,” Connor greets.

“Hey,” Leon returns, holding up a six-pack of beer. “Hope you like it.”

Connor laughs. “As long as you do, I’m sure I will,” he agrees. “The food should be here in twenty.”

“You’re not cooking for me?” Leon teases.

Connor rolls his eyes. “Trust me, you don’t want me to cook for you.” He pauses for a second. “Dyls’s game starts in half an hour.”

Connor tunes the television to the Coyotes game while Leon grabs a couple of beers and puts the rest of them in the fridge. And then the food shows up, so they dish that up before heading back to the living room. 

The puck has just dropped, so they both turn their attention to the game, paying special attention to Dyls’s line. 

“They should put him on the first powerplay unit,” Leon mumbles when the Coyotes draw a penalty about halfway through the first. 

Connor makes a noise of disgust. “They don’t know what they have in him.”

Leon makes a vague noise of agreement and then groans as one of the Yotes gets caught high-sticking and the Coyotes powerplay is negated. 

The Sharks score on their abbreviated powerplay. Leon swears in German. 

The rest of the game doesn’t go any better for the Coyotes. The Sharks score twice more, but Dylan gets an assist on the only Coyotes goal and ends the night +1. 

“Well fuck me,” Leon says when the clock runs out. He’s on his third beer, and it’s brought out his accent a little.

Which, Connor’s only on his second beer and that seems like a really, really good idea. “Bedroom’s through there,” he offers.

Leon looks over at him, like he’s trying to decide something. “But will you still respect me in the morning?” he asks, and even though the words are teasing, there’s something serious about it.

“Baby, I don’t respect you now,” Connor returns, blinking his eyelashes outrageously.

Leon laughs like he was supposed to and follows Connor back to his bedroom.

Afterwards, Connor’s leaning against the headboard, carding his fingers through Leon’s hair. “You know the Yotes are up here next week,” he begins.

“Mhmmm,” Leon agrees.

“Dyls and I usually hang out,” Connor says.

“Mhmmm,” Leon repeats. 

“So, I don’t know how this is supposed to work, exactly, but you should like come.”

Leon looks up at him then with a glint in his eye. “Oh, trust me, Davo,” he purrs. “I intend to.”

~

Connor doesn’t really try to involve himself in Dylan’s relationship with Leon. He knows that they text and leave comments on each other’s Insta posts, but beyond that, he hasn’t pushed. 

It’s not like he doesn’t want to know, but he feels like he’s already asking so much of them. 

He’s headed down to Leon’s apartment to see if Leon wants to grab dinner. He uses the key Leon gave him to get in the front door, a little surprised to see Leon’s bedroom door most the way closed. He doesn’t know exactly what stops him; maybe it’s the sound of Leon’s laughter, low and fond. Maybe it’s just a sixth sense.

“Did it get there okay?” Leon asks.

“Yes, you freak,” Dylan replies. Connor is intimately familiar with the way Dylan sounds on Skype, the sound of his voice slightly altered by the static of the connection. “I almost had to fight Chych for it because he said that any secret admirer probably meant to send it to him, but Ollie backed me up.”

Leon chuckles at that. “And what did you think?” he asks.

“It was good. Sweet,” Connor can practically see Dylan’s lips forming the word, the way his eyes are probably crinkled in amusement. He pushes the flicker of ugly jealousy down. 

“Kim and I always used to fight over them,” Leon says. He sounds distracted, like he’s lost in the memory maybe. “Now she sends them to me here. You can’t get them out of Germany.”

“It was good,” Dylan repeats. “Thank you for sharing it with me.” He pauses for a second. “Has Davo tried it yet?”

Leon snorts. “Davo would just tell me that chocolate isn’t in his diet plan.”

Which is absolutely true. 

“He’s a jealous fuck, you know,” Dylan says after a moment. “He’s not gonna be happy he didn’t get any chocolate.”

Leon’s silent for long enough that Connor finds himself pressing against the door, trying to hear. “I think there’s enough chocolate for everyone,” he says finally, and Connor _knows_ that he’s not talking about chocolate anymore. “I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

All of a sudden, Connor feels horribly guilty for eavesdropping on this conversation. He knocks on the door and calls, “Leon?”

“It’s open,” Leon calls back, so Connor pushes the door open. 

“Hey, Dyls,” he says, looking at Leon’s laptop. 

“Davo,” Dylan replies, and then they all fall silent for what feels like an eternity. Connor’s still wrestling with that ugly feeling of jealousy, but somehow it’s better knowing that neither of them is trying to exclude him. He’s pretty sure it’s always going to be there, but that’s something he can manage.

“Think I can borrow him for dinner?” he asks Dyls when it becomes apparent they’re both waiting for him to say something.

Dylan looks at him, going so far as to tilt his head. “You okay with this, Davo?” 

And Connor wants to blow him off, but he’s pretty sure he owes it to both of them to be honest. “It’s still a little weird, honestly, but not as bad as I thought it would be.”

Dylan shrugs. “I’ll take it. No one ever said this was going to be easy. Go have dinner. And Davo, for once in your life, order a fucking dessert.”

~

For once, the NHL scheduling planners were smiling on Connor because Arizona rolls into town a full 24 hours before their game. “Pretty sure my parents are going to kill me for using my curfew exception here instead of back home,” Dylan says while climbing into the passenger seat. Connor’s pretty sure he can see a couple of Dylan’s teammates loitering in the hotel lobby. 

Connor knows he should feel bad about that, but he can’t help but feel vindicated. “Drai’s back at my place,” he says. “I can ask him to go if you want,” he adds a little self-consciously.

Dylan rolls his eyes at that. “Just come here and kiss me, Davo,” he commands. “I don’t want our first kiss ever to have an audience.”

Connor leans across the centre console and pulls Dylan in. The kiss is tentative at first, but then Dylan grabs his chin and takes control. Kissing Dylan is electric, and when Connor pulls back, his lips are tingling.

“All right, let’s go,” Dylan says, eyeing the lobby. “Before someone gets brave and takes a picture for the group chat.”

The drive back to Connor’s apartment seems to take forever. Dylan changes the radio station about fifty times before he finally says, “I hope he likes me.”

Connor snorts. “He likes you just fine. I think he texts you more than he texts me.”

Dylan doesn’t say anything in response to that, which Connor knows means that he doesn’t believe it but also doesn’t want to argue. 

By the time Connor’s opening his apartment door, they’re both buzzing. When the door closes behind them, Dylan pushes Connor up against it and kisses him again and again until they’re both breathless.

A groan behind them brings them both back to reality. “Hi,” Dylan greets, letting go of Connor to greet Leon. It’s awkward for half a second before Dylan decides to just go for it and pulls Leon into a hug. 

“Hi,” Leon mumbles when Dylan pulls back. “Food should be here soon.”

“Good,” Dylan says with a charming grin. “Because I’m starving.”

Leon’s ordered chicken and pasta for them, which they all practically inhale before taking their beers—another one of Leon’s picks—to the living room to play _NHL 19_. 

Dylan is the undisputed champ, and after his fifth consecutive victory, he retires to the couch to nurse his second beer and watch them battle it out. “It’s only fair,” Dylan says while Connor tries and fails to stop Leon from scoring on virtual Talbs. “Since I’m the one with the least actual hockey talent.”

Leon drops his controller without even bothering to pause the game and climbs up onto the couch next to Dylan. He spends the next several minutes whispering to Dylan. Connor can hear their voices, but he can’t hear what they’re saying.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Leon says.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” Dylan replies.

Connor watches them kiss. He’s expecting to feel jealous, and he does a little. But more than anything, he feels relief mingled with arousal. 

“You okay, Otterchen?” Leon asks when he pulls back.

“Yeah,” Dylan breathes. Connor notices that his eyes are closed. “What did you call me?”

Leon actually blushes at that, not that Dylan sees it. “Nothing,” he mumbles. “It’s just a nickname. Little otter. Mien Otterchen.”

Dyls smiles at that. “I like that.”

Leon smiles back. “Connor’s got an okay bed,” he says after a moment. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Connor waits for Dylan’s answer with bated breath. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dylan says, trying to play it off like a joke. Connor can see that he’s nervous though, but he doesn’t know how to make it better.

His room is a mess. There’s at least three days worth of dirty clothes on the floor, almost all of them either orange or blue. He didn’t bother making the bed, and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t changed the sheets in long enough that his mother would disown him if she knew. 

“If only _Sportscentre_ could see you now,” Dylan teases, settling himself at the edge of Connor’s bed. 

Connor can’t help but blush even though both Leon and Dyls know that he’s a slob.

“It’s shocking, I know,” Leon agrees. “Who would have thought that the Next One was so lazy off the ice?”

“He’s gotten better since Juniors, if you can believe it,” Dylan laughs. “Is he still terrible at mornings?”

Leon nods. “I’m pretty sure he’s not even awake at team breakfasts on the road. He just grunts at the rookies until they do what he wants.”

“Oh fuck you both,” Connor grumbles, flopping down on his own bed beside Dylan. “I don’t have to take this shit from either of you.”

Dylan grins at him before leaning over to kiss Connor, telegraphing it so that Connor knows it’s coming and can react accordingly. Connor pulls Dylan down and turns their kiss from chaste to dirty in a matter of seconds.

Leon swears in German, and Connor breaks the kiss to turn and look at him. Leon’s not even bothering to hide his arousal, one hand palming his dick through his pants. 

“You want to give him a show, Dyls?” Connor asks, one hand creeping to grab a handful of Dylan’s ass.

Dylan pulls back far enough to pull off his shirt and shimmy out of his pants, leaving him in just his underwear. 

With the game tomorrow, none of them can afford to be at least than their best. Which means they’re not having sex tonight, but they can still do other things. Connor slides his hand under the elastic of Dylan’s underwear and wraps a hand around his dick.

He’s only half-hard, but Connor can work with that. He slides the elastic down under Dylan’s balls, freeing his dick. Half a dozen strokes later, Dylan’s fully hard. Connor can feel his mouth watering at the sight.

And then Leon is there, pushing his way between Dylan’s thighs. “Tell me what you want,” Leon says, his voice gravelly with arousal.

“I want you to fucking blow me,” Dylan replies immediately. “Kiss me, Davo,” he adds, giving Connor a beseeching look. 

There’s nothing Connor wouldn’t do for Dylan, especially when he looks like that. He kisses Dylan again and again, swallowing his gasps and moans. 

Dylan comes with a moan, pulling away from Connor to pant against his neck. “God,” he pants.

“Not quite,” Leon replies smugly. He gets up off his knees and settles on the bed on Dylan’s other side. 

Connor’s dick is still hard, and so is Leon’s. Dylan, meanwhile, is half the way asleep already.

“You’re so come dumb,” Connor grumbles, reaching over Dylan to wrap a hand around Leon’s dick. It’s not the best handjob Connor’s ever given, but Leon’s already close enough to the edge that Connor’s lack of technique doesn’t seem to matter. He comes after only half a dozen strokes, swearing in German.

Connor gets himself off because both of his boyfriends are uselessly staring at the ceiling. 

“I’m going to go shower,” Dylan says an indeterminate amount of time later. 

“Hmmm,” Leon agrees and levers himself up to follow Dylan. Connor takes the time to change the sheets on his bed because there’s no way he’s getting stuck sleeping in the wet spot, and then takes a shower of his own when Dylan and Leon reappear, giggling and with wet hair. 

When Connor gets out of the shower a couple of minutes later, he pads naked into his bedroom to find both Dylan and Leon already in his bed. Connor doesn’t let himself think about how much he likes looking at them both in his bed together.

“Are you coming?” Dylan questions when he notices Connor just standing there. 

“Already did, thanks,” Connor returns snarkily, climbing in on Dylan’s other side. It’s a tight fit, but they make it work. “You were no help at all.”

“You had things well in hand,” Dylan says cheekily. On his other side, Leon snorts. 

“Why do I even put up with you?” Connor asks, burying his face in Dylan’s shoulder.

“It’s because I’m just so lovable,” Dylan returns, reaching over and running a hand through Connor’s hair. 

“You really are,” Connor agrees. 

“Ich liebe euch beide,” Leon grumbles. “But shut the fuck up.”

Connor laughs but shuts the fuck up.

~

Connor can’t help but be worried about the game the next day when he drops Dylan off at the hotel the next morning. “It’ll be fine,” Leon tells him in the room before they take the ice for warm-ups.

“I know,” Connor says. “I _know_. I’ll be fine once we get on the ice.”

It might just be his imagination, but it seems like Stromer gives his shoulder an extra hard squeeze on their way down the tunnel.

When Connor finally hits the ice, Dyls is already there. He gives Connor a bright grin and then pretends to slash at Connor’s ankles. Connor laughs and shouts, “Better watch out, Dyls,” Connor says. “We’re coming for you.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Davo,” Dylan returns.

“I know,” Connor agrees, grinning around his mouthguard. “That’s why I didn’t come alone.”

Dylan gives him a look, and then warm-ups are over and they’re heading back down the tunnel to listen to Coach’s pre-game speech. Leon grins at him from across the room and Connor can’t help but grin back.

He doesn’t know if this relationship is going to keep working in the future, but for the first time Connor feels like all three of them have a chance at making it work. 

“We’ve got this, boys,” Connor says when Coach finishes going over the lines and their game plan for the night. He looks over at Leon and grins. “We’ve got this.”

fin.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. All right, so this is a weird mish-mash of things that are true and things I made up. For example, Arizona and Edmonton did play a pre-season game in Edmonton, and it was a sloppy game that Edmonton did win, but the score in this is completely wrong. Likewise, the Calgary game, which didn’t go to overtime in real life. When it comes to the game against Cologne, the score is wrong for dramatic effect.  
> 2\. The places that Connor, Leon, and the team visit in Europe are real places. The Cathedral in Cologne is actually fairly famous and there is a viewing platform near the top that does have a pretty good view of the city from what I could see from the pictures. For anyone wondering, it’s only 508 stairs to the top. The rest of the places Connor and Leon visit are completely my imagination, although Kolsch is a beer specific to Cologne, and the Oilers are there during Oktoberfest, so I refuse to believe they didn’t partake.  
> 3\. Zero clue as to the result of the Oilers season opener, as at the writing of this, it hasn’t been played. Also, zero clue how they’re coming back to North America. The Oilers play in Gothenburg, but Stockholm contains both the ABBA museum and the Vasamuseet (Vasa Museum), and those seemed really cool, so I wanted to put them in. It is only a 3-hour train ride form Gothenburg to Stockholm, and the trains appear to run several times a day. Also, their first game back is in Boston—they don’t return to Edmonton until October 18—but I’m just guessing that they’ll go straight to Boston.  
> 4\. When it comes to Dylan and the Coyotes, when I wrote this, I didn’t have their opening night roster, but I was happy to get the most important parts of it correct. That being said, Nick Merkley is a superstar who played with Dylan last year in Tucson and with Leon in his half a year in Kelowna, which is why he was chosen to be the only actual adult in this entire story.  
> 5\. The title comes from a quote from Scott Peck: “Love is as love does. Love is an act of will—namely, both an intention and an action. Will also implies choice. We do not have to love. We choose to love.”


End file.
